


Whose Sail Do You Fly Under?

by ros3bud009



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, BDSM themes, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Flirting, Frisking, Implied Kidnapping, Just teasing, M/M, Manhandling, Now with a second chapter and a new rating, Pirate AU, Propositions, References to interfacing, Semi-Public Sex, Someday Hot Rod will get properly Laid, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Third chapter and Hot Rod finally gets properly Laid(tm), Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, authority kink, but not full sex, cross faction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: "'What makes you think you have a right to speak to me at all, brat?' Deadlock interrupted, ridges raised as he gave the mech a once over. Small and painted bright reds and oranges like a candy, though by the way his optics flared with outrage, Deadlock would guess that instead of a sweet treat, this hot-headed morsel would have a mean kick."A little Pirate AU written for eatyoursparkout's prompt





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EatYourSparkOut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatYourSparkOut/gifts).



“Whose sail do you fly under?”

Deadlock didn’t react, didn’t turn his helm or let his face shift at all. He simply continued to lounge in the alcove that he had claimed for himself, sipping at his engex as he watched the rest of the drunken crowd in the bar and ignored the interruption to his downtime lingering in his periphery.

That should have been enough to send the nosy fool on his way, but no.

Instead the mech moved directly in front of him, arms crossed and mouth scowling, the very image of indignation.

“I said, whose–”

“What makes you think you have a right to speak to me at all, brat?” Deadlock interrupted, ridges raised as he gave the mech a once over. Small and painted bright reds and oranges like a candy, though by the way his optics flared with outrage, Deadlock would guess that instead of a sweet treat, this hot-headed morsel would have a mean kick.

“Wha—excuse me?!” the mech spluttered.

“You’re, what, a cabin boy?” Deadlock said dismissively, lazily waving a servo at the mech. “Probably sent by your captain to get the lay of the place, see if there were any troublemakers, something like that?” The mech’s face twisted bitterly and Deadlock couldn’t help chuckling as he continued, “That’s what I thought. You’re lucky your captain is so lenient because you clearly don’t know what you’re doing.”

The mech’s armor flared aggressively, puffing him up as if it would make him look intimidating. “Oh yeah? Well, I’ve already figured out that this bar is full of Cons, so I’m betting you’re one too.”

Deadlock couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at his lips. Maybe it was the engex, maybe it was boredom, or maybe just the simple fact that he did always like ‘em kicking.

“You don’t say,” Deadlock said as he let his mouth curl into his most charming grin, fang peeking out. The mech watched as Deadlock leaned back further into the tattered pillows, allowing his thighs to splay open and his back to arch just so, fully aware of how appealing his frame was. There was no hiding the interest that flickered in those brilliant blue optics. “You really want to know, brat?”

The mech sneered. “Stop calling me brat!”

“I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

A weak engine growled at that as the mech stepped closer, mouth open to argue, completely unaware of the moment he was within range.

It was a matter of seconds for Deadlock to grab him by the wrist and yank while his pede kicked out to sweep the mech’s legs out from under him, leaving him with nowhere to go but to sprawl on top of Deadlock.  The wrist was abandoned to wrap around the mech’s back and grasp him by a spoiler mount while Deadlock’s other servo tipped the mech’s chin up to meet his gaze. The poor thing’s optics were wide and bright, and they only grew wider when Deadlock braced his pede on the bench so that his knee rose up between the mech’s legs and his thigh was snug up against the little mech’s panels.

“If you wanted to get to know me better, all you had to do was ask.”

The mech’s face was a delight to watch as it shifted and twisted from shock to embarrassment to resentment, and all the while his array heated against Deadlock’s thigh.

“That—that’s not what I’m doing!” he insisted as he pushed his servos against Deadlock’s chest. “You’re a Con!”

“And you’re a Bot,” Deadlock replied while his hold on the mech’s spoiler mount tightened, thumb rubbing against the hinges to watch the little mech shiver. When the mech didn’t deny the claim – because of  _course_ he was an Autobot, every inch of his pretty frame screamed it – Deadlock sat up while keeping the mech close. Like this, the mech straddled Deadlock’s thigh and Deadlock could lean down to purr into his audial, “But we’re in neutral territory here, so why not have some fun?”

“I don’t even know you,” the Bot protested even as his helm, consciously or otherwise, tilted to give Deadlock more room as he started to press open-mouthed kisses down towards his neck.

“Do you need to?”

The mech shifted on his knees, though it wasn’t clear if it was to move his panels away or against Deadlock’s thigh, and there was no way that the mech didn’t feel the heat emanating from Deadlock’s own panels. He shuddered and the smallest whine escaped his vocalizer as Deadlock mouthed at his neck, letting his fangs scrape along the paneling.

“We should at least know each other’s names,” the Bot reasoned. “Otherwise, how are you going to know what name to scream?”

That managed to catch Deadlock off guard, a genuine laugh escaping before he could stop it. The Bot’s engine purred in response, apparently pleased to have finally found his footing in their conversation, and Deadlock couldn’t say he disagreed.

“Shouldn’t you offer your own name before asking mine?” Deadlock teased, pulling back just enough to go nose-to-nose with the little mech who just grinned back.

“What do Cons know about manners?”

“More than you, apparently.”

“Fine. I’m–”

“Hot Rod!!”

The mech sat straight up right and his helm swiveled towards the door as he sputtered, horrified, “Captain?!”

Deadlock would know the tall blue Bot stomping across the bar anywhere. Apparently the same could be said for him as the Bot’s steps slowed, his optics narrowing as they focused on Deadlock.

“Ultra Magnus,” Deadlock greeted, his lazy smile lacking any sincerity.

“Deadlock,” the Autobot captain replied with a deep frown.

Hot Rod whipped his helm back around as he yelped, “Deadlock?! You’re  _Deadlock_?!”

“Hush, brat,” Deadlock ordered sweetly, the servo he had at the back of Hot Rod’s neck tightening just enough to make it clear he stay where he was. “Captains are talking now.”

“You can’t just ‘hush, brat’ me–!”

“Hot Rod,” Ultra Magnus admonished, and with an unhappy growl Hot Rod shut his mouth. Not once did the captain’s glower leave Deadlock’s. “We have no issues with you or your crew at this time, Deadlock. I’ve simply come for my crewmember.”

“I had heard that you run a tight ship, Ultra Magnus, but I didn’t realize you kept tabs on where your crew stick their spikes,” Deadlock drawled, enjoying the twitch in Ultra Magnus’s optic. A snort that sounded suspiciously like an aborted snicker escaped Hot Rod, clearly unaware of the seriousness beneath the glib tone. “Surely if you have no real issue, you’ll treat my crew the same you would any other and let your little cabin boy enjoy himself.”

Ultra Magnus grimaced, clearly seeing the unvoiced threat for what it was.

Let Deadlock have his cabin boy for the night or face an unhappy Decepticon captain and crew.

Several tense seconds passed, and Deadlock was pleased to see his crew around the bar quiet down, servos drifting towards their weapons as they waited for the order.

“If Hot Rod wishes to keep your company, I will not intervene,” Ultra Magnus finally bit out. “Hot Rod?”

“Well, darling?” Deadlock drawled as he gently stroked Hot Rod’s nape, his smile warming for the little mech. “Would you like a night with the dread pirate Deadlock ‘screaming’ your name?”

Hot Rod hesitated, his servos fisted against Deadlock’s chest.

“Or would you prefer to be a good little cabin boy and receive your captain’s lecture before going to bed with only your servo for company?”

Hot Rod sucked his bottom lip between his dentae before, slowly, he grinned.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Captain.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so a one-shot became a two-shot. Maybe someday it will become a three-shot, haha.

“You do know that there’s hotels around, right? That bar literally rents out rooms.”

“Are you a frequent visitor to those rooms?” Deadlock teased, side-eyeing Hot Rod as he continued to walk across the long dock.

“Wha—no! But it might have kept the mood if we had just had to walk up a flight of stairs instead of halfway across the port!” Hot Rod complained. While he was a small bot, Hot Rod kept up with Deadlock easily, though he supposed considering the Bot’s captain, Deadlock shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Shame. If you had stared up at those ceilings before you’d know why the trip is worth it.” Deadlock smirked. “Then again, you would have let me have you in front of a bar full of my crew and your captain, so I doubt some grime and rust would dissuade you.”

Hot Rod sprinted a couple steps so he could turn on his pede, walking backwards while pointing up at Deadlock accusingly. “You’re the one who started it there! I think if either of us wanted to frag in front of your crew, it’s you.”

“Wrong,” Deadlock replied, reaching out and grabbing Hot Rod by his chest armor to yank him back to his side before the little Bot walked over the edge of the dock. Hot Rod’s plating ruffled but he didn’t pull away from Deadlock’s grasp. “Now, filling another captain’s cabin boy with my transfluid while he watched?”

The grin that pulled at his lips gave away how much that idea appealed to Deadlock. And, to his amusement, Hot Rod’s cooling fans sputtered to life after a second.

“So, uh, how much further to your ship again?”

Deadlock chuckled as he commented, “In the mood again that easily, brat?”

Hot Rod pursed his lips as he replied, “I had to tell my captain to his face that I’m fragging a Con tonight, so excuse me for wanting to make sure that pays off for me.”

“A Con Captain,” Deadlock corrected. He came to a stop, amused when Hot Rod stumbled into him before shuffling back. “You better remember that as you enter  _my_ ship.”

For several seconds, Hot Rod just stared at the vessel before them. The Dead End was a large ship with powerful engines and deadly weapons, and there was no mistaking the purple insignia painted across it. Every inch a Decepticon ship, and Deadlock was proud to call it his. However, few Bots saw it so close without gambling with their lives.

Hot Rod seemed appropriately awed until he blurted out, “You gonna let me in?”

Entitled brat. Ideas flickered through Deadlock’s processor, quickly grabbing out the best one.

“After I’ve patted you down.”

“What?” Hot Rod stammered, turning towards Deadlock. “Are—are you serious?”

“Of course,” Deadlock insisted as he stepped in close towards Hot Rod, smirking down at him. “I’m not about to let some Bot onboard without making sure you’re unarmed.”

Hot Rod grimaced, but with a resigned sigh he raised his arms out to his sides.

“Just get it over with so we can get to the fun stuff, would ya?”

With an entertained hum, Deadlock reached out to tip Hot Rod’s chin up towards him. “Don’t worry, brat. You’ll have your fun.” He stroked his thumb across Hot Rod’s lips and purred, “Open up.”

Hot Rod took a second before letting his lips part. Without warning or question, Deadlock slipped a couple fingers inside, pressing down on Hot Rod’s glossa until his jaw obligingly opened further. Deadlock bent down enough to gaze into the Bot’s open mouth, watching his own digits slip under the slick glossa before grasping it for a moment, moving it this way and that as he pleased. Hot Rod was already shuddering by the time Deadlock just sunk his fingers deep into Hot Rod’s mouth, just shy of his intake, before finally pulling them out.

“I intend to be thorough,” Deadlock explained as his digits, still slick with oral lubricant, moved to hook under Hot Rod’s collar, tracing along the crevice. “After all, this is  _my_ ship.” With both servos, Deadlock traced the edges of Hot Rod’s armor, quickly checking his front. Then Deadlock moved forward until they were chest to chest while his digits followed the dips in Hot Rod’s back, leaning in to whisper into Hot Rod’s audial, “I take care of what’s mine.”

Hot Rod bit into his bottom lip and resolutely stared straight ahead, unable to meet Deadlock’s gaze when the captain stepped back. His cooling fans whirred softly though, giving away the way the little Bot’s frame was heating up.

He shivered when Deadlock’s digits trailed down his sides.

“Which side are your hardwires on?”

“Seriously?” Hot Rod asked, risking a shocked look at Deadlock. But when the captain was unmoved, his servos stroking along Hot Rod’s sides, the Bot looked away and muttered, “My left.”

“Good. Now, open up.”

Hot Rod’s face twisted, torn between indignity and arousal, but the panel snapped open to expose his ports and plugs. As Deadlock had expected, there wasn’t anything else hidden away in the small space, but that didn’t stop him from running his digits around the ports and flicking some of the prongs of the plugs. Both sets sparked, priming themselves under his teasing touch, and Deadlock couldn’t have held back his grin if he had wanted to.

“Good,” he praised again, enjoying how Hot Rod shuddered as his optics nearly flickered offline.

And then Deadlock abandoned the array completely. “You can close that up now,” he offered as his servo drifted to Hot Rod’s other side. “Though you can leave them exposed if you wish. I would hate to ruin your ‘fun’ after all.”

With a huff, Hot Rod’s panel snapped shut again.

“I assume your subspace is on your right side then?” Deadlock asked as his servo rested on Hot Rod’s waist. Hot Rod’s lips pursed petulantly but within seconds the field around Hot Rod’s side shifted and Deadlock’s servo disappeared into the invisible pocket.

Deadlock had been in many a subspace pocket to find a wide variety of organization types. However, unsurprisingly, Hot Rod’s was just a singular space with everything thrown in together. Some cubes, a couple datapads, some shanix—

Hot Rod squirmed as Deadlock’s grin took on a hard edge.

“Ah, there we go,” he said as he pulled his servo free with a small blaster in it. Hot Rod’s optics went wide.

“Hey, come on, we all have to carry something—give it back!”

After giving it a quick spin, Deadlock slipped the blaster into his own subspace before Hot Rod could grab it. “You can have it back when we’re done here,” he stated, leaving no room for argument. Hot Rod glowered and Deadlock added, “Unless you want this to be the end of our little affair.”

Judging by the subtle whine of cooling fans kicking up to a faster pace, Hot Rod was already too deeply invested.

“You promise to give it back?” Hot Rod asked, and Deadlock couldn’t help it. He laughed quietly as he tipped Hot Rod’s chin up again, giving him a brief kiss before biting down on the Bot’s bottom lip.

It was only when he let it go and enjoyed the hitching of Hot Rod’s ventilations that Deadlock replied, “Would you believe any promise I made you?”

That finally gave Hot Rod pause.

“I mean, it’s a bit late to ask those kinds of questions, isn’t it?”

Deadlock had to choke back another laugh, because Primus, who was this brat, and why did he need him so badly? Regardless, there was that fire from before burning in his lines, ready to claim, and who was Deadlock to deny himself?

His servo caressed down Hot Rod’s front before stopping just above his modesty panels and tapping.

“Then open up.”

Hot Rod’s optics went comically wide even as his vents blasted hot air from his frame.

“Here? Shouldn’t we, you know, do this inside your ship?”

Deadlock flashed him a grin that showed off his fangs as he tapped again.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, cabin boy. I haven’t finished patting you down.”

“C’mon Deadlock,” Hot Rod whined and it shouldn’t have been attractive to hear his name spoken that way. It didn’t help that for all his protests, Hot Rod was fidgeting, his thighs pressing together as heat burned beneath Deadlock’s digits.

“You like this though. It’s got you all hot and bothered, darling.”

“Frag off,” Hot Rod spat without any real venom to be heard. It was more for show than anything as his panels snapped open.

To Deadlock’s delight, the little Bot’s spike was already pressurizing, glaring evidence of Hot Rod’s arousal. It twitched when Deadlock cradled it with his palm and his digits traced around the base to feel it continuing to extend from its sheath, quickly inching towards fully pressurized.

“Well, I think it’s fair to say you weren’t hiding anything in your spike sheath,” Deadlock teased, giving the spike a quick squeeze just to hear Hot Rod’s sputtering gasp before releasing it. The Bot’s hips jerked forward, trying to find that stimulation again, but Deadlock wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Not yet.

Instead Deadlock cupped Hot Rod’s valve, making sure it was lubricated enough before sliding his middle digit between the lips and shoving up into the clenching heat in one easy thrust.

Hot Rod yelped, his servos grabbing at Deadlock’s arms as his knees threatened to buckle. But Deadlock just hummed casually as he swirled his digit around slowly and then curled it, pressing against the walls of Hot Rod’s valve, dragging an unfettered keen from the little Bot.

“Doesn’t seem like anything’s hiding in here,” Deadlock drawled as he pulled his digit out. However, with a tilt of his helm and a wicked grin, he slowly pushed two digits inside. “But it’s best to be sure, hm?” It was a snug fit, but Hot Rod’s frame had been aroused and primed for a while now, so the calipers allowed him inside without trouble.

And it was worth it to watch Hot Rod’s helm tilt forward to thunk against Deadlock’s chest as his frame trembled, a hissed curse escaping him followed quickly by a mewl when Deadlock’s digits spread apart.

“Hush now, darling. Don’t want to call anyone’s attention, do you?”

With a jerk of his hips and a squeeze of his valve, Hot Rod whined long and low. Deadlock didn’t doubt that he could have the Bot right there on the dock if he wanted.

However, he had meant it. Ultra Magnus would have been a satisfying audience, but otherwise Deadlock had no interest in sharing his prize. So with a kiss to the top of Hot Rod’s helm, Deadlock removed his digits completely.

“No, wait, c’mon,” Hot Rod complained as he whipped his helm up, his optics bright with his arousal. But Deadlock simply grinned as he brought the lubricant-slicked digits to his mouth and closed his lips around them, enjoying his first taste of the delicious night awaiting him. Hot Rod’s grip on his arms tightened as his optics flared and he groused impatiently, “That’s not fair.”

Now clean, Deadlock reached his digits out towards Hot Rod’s face, cradling it soothingly, as if he wasn’t the reason this cabin boy’s spike and valve were exposed on the dock, aroused and unsated.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Deadlock insisted. “If I thought you were a real threat, I’d check your spark chamber as well.”

“If I was—wait, hold on,” Hot Rod stammered, his ridges furrowing as realization set in. “Did you just do this to tease me? You bastard–!”

With the shove of his free servo and a step in close, Deadlock had Hot Rod up against the side of the ship, his glossa delving between the bot’s lips. Hot Rod seemed torn between slapping his servos against his chest irritably and dragging him closer. The way his hips ground up against Deadlock’s thigh, spike hot against his plating, was completely honest though.

It only took some quick work with Deadlock’s free servo to have the ship door unlocking and opening beside them.

“Let’s get you inside,” Deadlock teased against Hot Rod’s slack-jawed mouth, “before you make a scene.”

Hot Rod blinked at him before saying, completely seriously, “Please tell me your room is right next to this door.”

“It’s up a couple floors.”

“You fragger.”

Deadlock laughed as he pulled away and dragged Hot Rod inside with him, making sure the door locked behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, for EatYourSparkOut, a finale for this AU. Time for Hot Rod to finally get laid, lmao.

Hot Rod made it clear his patience had long run thin. Deadlock wondered if the little Bot had any to start with, but the valve painting his plating with lubricant with each aggressive rut of Hot Rod’s hips suggested no.

“Is  _this_  it? Or do you just enjoy shoving me against every wall except the one that will finally get me laid?”

“There  _is_  a certain charm in watching you trying so desperately to overload on my thigh.”

Hot Rod’s engine gave its best attempt at a growl, more endearing than threatening.

“Give me a couple seconds and I’m going to succeed, and all without your help,” Hot Rod said. His cooling fans were running high and Deadlock noticed that, along with the lubricant, Hot Rod was now leaving stripes of pre-fluid across Deadlock’s abdomen, making it wholly clear how very close the Bot had managed to get himself.

The guilt he was trying to evoke in Deadlock wasn’t forthcoming though. Truthfully, Deadlock could have enjoyed the show for a while.

But they were, in fact, against the right door.

With a chiding huff, Deadlock finished keying in his code to unlock the door to his quarters.

“Lucky for you we’re finally here, brat.” The door slid open just as Deadlock released his hold on Hot Rod’s waist, leaving the Bot suddenly without any support. Hot Rod flailed gracelessly off his thigh and backward into the room with a yelp, though he managed to keep himself from actually falling on his aft. Once the Bot’s pedes had properly settled on the ground, Deadlock walked through the doorway, shutting and locking the door behind him. “I’m sure you’ll have no problems making yourself at home.”

Deadlock had been prepared for Hot Rod to fume. To yell and curse and complain about his interrupted overload and generally make a scene.

Which, to be fair, Hot Rod did curse – “The  _frag_?!” – as he reached down, grasping his spike and giving it a few soothing strokes to ease his discomfort.

And he did complain – “You’re such an aft.”

But then Hot Rod was stepping towards Deadlock, reaching out to grab his servo as he said, “But I already knew that, so come on already! I’m dying here!”

Deadlock was so surprised by the sheer audacity of being pulled around on his own ship that he found himself following until Hot Rod released him to flop back onto his berth. Hot Rod sunk into the plushness of the various blankets and pillows, looking utterly at home as he spread his knees wide and arched his back. And, in a display of sheer confidence, his arms folded behind his helm to further cushion it as he grinned up at Deadlock. He looked far too casual and decadent, as if he belonged amongst the rich, luxurious fabrics.

Hot Rod was downright delectable.

The berth dipped where Deadlock placed his weight on it as he moved to cover the little Bot’s frame with his own. Hot Rod shivered with anticipation, helm tilting to accept a kiss. Deadlock let his heated ex-vent ghost across plush lips before catching the brat’s bottom lip between his dentae, biting just enough that his fangs pressed harshly into the soft mesh without piercing. Hot Rod  _moaned_.

Then, after giving a little tug, Deadlock released Hot Rod and lifted his helm away.

When Hot Rod tried to follow, Deadlock slammed his palm against the Bot’s chest, pushing him back down into the berth.

“Deadlock–!”

“Captain,” Deadlock corrected, interrupting Hot Rod’s whining complaint. His thumb caressed Hot Rod’s chest plating but his servo did not give the Bot so much as an inch of movement. “On this ship you’ll call me Captain and treat me as such.”

Hot Rod’s spark thrummed faster under Deadlock’s servo despite the dismissive snort the brat gave.

“Hah. Fat chance.” Hot Rod’s hips rolled up against Deadlock, smearing the mess he had already left on the Con’s plating, and his lips were pulled into a scrap-eating grin. “Do you have any idea how long it took Magnus to do that?”

Deadlock shifted his legs further up onto the berth until he could bring his knees down on Hot Rod’s hips, pinning him further into the plush surface.

“Considering where you are now, I’d say he still hasn’t done his job properly,” Deadlock replied as he let his weight sink onto Hot Rod’s frame. The little Bot couldn’t have been comfortable under the bulk of his thick armor.

And yet Hot Rod’s spark was pulsing all the harder.

“But I know something that Ultra Magnus doesn’t.”

“Y-yeah? And what’s that?” Hot Rod asked, as if the way his armor flared and his cooling fans whirred and the growing wet patch on Deadlock’s berth didn’t all give him away.

Deadlock smirked as he leaned down to ex-vent on Hot Rod’s lips again.

“You  _want_ to submit to your Captain.”

Hot Rod squirmed as best he could under Deadlock’s hold as his optics flared brighter.

“Gross. I don’t wanna frag Ultra Magnus.”

“‘Course not. He’s failed you as a Captain,” Deadlock continued, leaning and tilting his helm so he could drag his mouth along Hot Rod’s cheek, pressing a kiss against the rising heat building under the mesh. “But on my ship” – his free servo trailed down Hot Rod’s abdomen, swirling in the small puddles of pre-fluid – “and in my berth” – and he nuzzled close until his lips caressed Hot Rod’s audial – “ _I’m_  your Captain, and you  _will_ submit.”

Hot Rod whined for a split second before stopping himself, but not fast enough. Deadlock lifted his helm to grin victoriously down at his prey who stared up with blindingly bright blue optics.

“And you’ll like it, won’t you, darling?”

Hot Rod sucked his bottom lip in between his dentae to gnaw on as he tried weakly to shift under Deadlock. He barely managed to budge.

And then he smiled back. It was slow, but it grew and grew, wide and eager.

“Make me.”

Deadlock couldn’t get his spike inside the brat fast enough.

The berth creaked as Deadlock pushed off of it to get back onto his pedes, towering over Hot Rod as he schooled his expression into something like disinterest. “Get on your hands and knees.”

With a taunting hum, Hot Rod wiggled on the berth, arms up over his helm as he arched, making sure to tip his hips so his dripping valve was on display. He made no move to roll over. “But I’m already comfortable. Just frag me on my back.”

“Hands and knees, cabin boy.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You’re not getting fragged.”

Hot Rod shrugged and his arms lowered to trace the lines of his frame, starting at his chest and trailing down towards his middle.

“Fine. I have my own servos. I’ll get myself off and leave.”

“And you think you’ll be satisfied with that?” Deadlock asked, unconvinced as he crossed his arms over his chest, simply watching as Hot Rod tried to seduce him with every inch of his frame. His digits drifted over his abdomen, his hips rolled up to make his spike bounce as lubricant was squeezed out of his valve to trickle down his aft, and then his digits had found and skirted the edges of his wet, throbbing array–

Deadlock simply lifted a doubtful brow.

And then let his modesty paneling shift away.

Hot Rod’s optics immediately darted down, flaring with interest. Deadlock let the corner of his lips curl as he canted his hips forward, his spike slowly but surely pressurizing above the dark lips of his valve.

And Deadlock could see plain as day the way Hot Rod’s valve clenched down on nothing once he was fully pressurized.

“Alright, can’t argue with that,” Hot Rod relented. His tone was all humor, but he quickly dropped his seduction to roll onto his belly and push up onto all fours. The Bot, of course, then wiggled it impatiently as he peeked over his shoulder.

Deadlock had to fight the urge to roll his optics as he stepped closer.

“Good,” he said, noting the jittering of Hot Rod’s plating at the small praise. Far too easy to read. Deadlock placed his servos on the sides of Hot Rod’s hips, holding them still as his thumbs caressed the sleek finish of the Bot’s aft. “Head down.”

Hot Rod frowned.

“Really?”

“This will go faster if you don’t question every command,” Deadlock stated. With a quiet grumble, Hot Rod dropped to his elbows. “All the way down.”

Hot Rod’s helm dipped down to touch the berth, though his weight still rested on his elbows.

This time, Deadlock didn’t bother with the Bot’s little game of attrition. He grasped Hot Rod firmly by the spoiler mount and shoved him down, pleased when with a breathy gasp Hot Rod’s chest pressed against the berth, creating a beautiful arch of his back and a full frame shudder.

“That’s better,” Deadlock purred and Hot Rod moaned quietly into the plush berth.

“Just frag me already” Hot Rod said, attempting to sound demanding but in truth was far closer to whining.

Deadlock let his hips move forward so his spike grazed the inside of Hot Rod’s thigh.

“Lower your hips.”

Hot Rod’s thighs slowly slipped apart, and Deadlock shifted to keep his spike pressed to his plating so that the Bot could feel it, would keep spreading wider until Deadlock’s spike finally met the apex to brush against his anterior node. The mesh was hot against Deadlock.

“Perfect.”

Hot Rod’s digits clenched at the berth under him as his hips jerked, trying to drag his node along Deadlock’s spike and dripping lubricant on him.

“Then frag me.”

It would have been easy to sink inside, yes, but Hot Rod wasn’t there just yet. He needed another push, something to finally tame him.

A wicked idea crossed Deadlock’s processor.

“Open your hardwire compartment.”

Hot Rod’s frame vibrated with the loud whine of his engine. Nevertheless, the panel slid aside and Deadlock could see the arcs of charge flitting off the plugs and ports. And already Hot Rod was squirming, trying to push up enough that he could reach his hardwires. Deadlock didn’t give him that room though. In fact he pressed down further to make himself clear.

Instead of fighting, Hot Rod went slack against the berth, though he did grumble into the blanket, “Be quick about it, would ya?”

Deadlock couldn’t help a smirk as he popped his own panel, circling one of his plugs once before unspooling it.

“I suppose. I can be a merciful Captain when I feel like it,” he commented casually as he leaned forward and, in one deft movement, slipped his plug into Hot Rod’s main port. The charge was lightning quick and hot and Deadlock’s helm dipped as he let the pleasure wash over him and the sweet Bot under him.

Hot Rod shivered as the connection program initialized and he accepted it at once.

Whether it was out of progress or desperation didn’t matter. Either was acceptable to Deadlock.

Hot Rod noticed it wasn’t the usual interfacing program quickly, his optics onlining as he peered over his shoulder, stammering, “What–?”

“Have you heard of sensornet mirroring?” Deadlock asked as he shifted his hips to rub his spike along the slit of Hot Rod’s valve. The mesh was soft and inviting against him, charge snapping at his nodes through the slick, tempting him with how good it felt and how much better it would feel surrounded by that supple charge-laden passage.

Hot Rod gasped and his hips thrusted forward.

“Ohhhh fragging  _frag_ ,” he moaned as Deadlock continued to tease them both with each rub of his spike. Not only would Hot Rod be contending with the sensations of his own sensornet, but now he had access to every sensory node of Deadlock’s array, experiencing the slick slide from both sides. “Y-you’re serious?”

“Very,” Deadlock replied just as he pressed his lips to Hot Rod’s spoiler, kissing it sweetly. “You’ll know how my spike feels in your valve in every sense of the phrase.” He loosened his grip around the spoiler mount so his digits could stroke the sensitive hinges, pulling sweet whimpers from Hot Rod. “If you’re good, I’ll consider letting you feel what it’s like to take your spike later.”

Hot Rod’s servos were tangled with the bedding, one bunching up a blanket while the other was squeezing the life out of a pillow that he buried his face in, though it did nothing to silence his moans. Deadlock reached his free servo out to pull the pillow free from the Bot’s grip. Brilliant blues were nearly white with charge and plush lips were slack as Hot Rod panted.

“Would you like that, darling?”

It took a moment for Hot Rod’s optics to focus enough to meet Deadlock’s.

“Fine, I—fine,  _fine_ , you win, just –  _please_.”

Deadlock dragged his glossa across Hot Rod’s spoiler before placing one chaste kiss to the tip, humming as he did.

“And what have I won?”

“Haah, fraggin’—my submission, I guess? Just –  _oh primus_ , I submit, whatever, it’s yours.”

Deadlock pressed the tip of his spike against the sopping wet rim of Hot Rod’s valve. The outermost calipers twitched, torn between clenching and relaxing wide open, desperate for satiation.

Hot Rod moaned as Deadlock kissed the back on his neck.

“And who am I?”

Hot Rod quivered from the top of his helm to the tips of his pedes.

“Deadlo—haah!” The grip on Hot Rod’s spoiler mount tightened as Deadlock pressed his weight onto it, his other servo grasping Hot Rod’s chin with unforgiving strength as he leaned in closer, slow and careful in spite of the sheer dominance the rest of his frame claimed.

“I said, who am I,  _brat_?” Deadlock growled.

Hot Rod panted against Deadlock’s mouth as he swallowed, licking his lips, and then finally croaked out, “Captain. You’re my Captain.”

Deadlock pressed a soft kiss to Hot Rod’s lips.

“There’s a good cabin boy.”

And, with one swift thrust, Deadlock filled Hot Rod’s valve.

Deadlock could not hold back his own deep groan. Hot Rod was scalding hot and sopping wet and  _tight_. The Bot was so incredibly aroused but still small enough to that it was a squeeze, his valve lining rippling around the girth forcing it wide and dumping charge across their nodes.

Not that Hot Rod would have noticed as he threw his helm back as far as his frame and the iron-strong grip on his spoiler would allow and convulsed with overload, vocalizer fritzing as loud moans turned to static, and digits digging deep enough into the blanket to tear it. And Deadlock simply let him, settling over the Bot to ride out the waves of charge and watch, humming from the pleasure. With each clench of those calipers, Hot Rod jerked again, feeling his own valve overloading around Deadlock and that, combined with his own frame’s sensations, sending him cascading back into smaller overloads. It was a cycle that prolonged Hot Rod’s ecstasy and was gorgeous to watch.

It was sheer willpower that kept Deadlock from joining. AfterAfter all, what a waste it would be to have the night end so soon.

Finally, Hot Rod’s rolling shudders slowed, though his frame heaved trying to suck cool air through his vents and his servos alternated between gripping and releasing the plush fabric trapped in his hold. When Deadlock caressed the arch of his back, Hot Rod groaned.

“ _Holy frag_.”

“Knew you’d like that,” Deadlock teased as he slowly and carefully withdrew his spike. Hot Rod shivered and his hips pushed back, trying to keep Deadlock inside.

“What I’d like,  _Captain_ ,” Hot Rod managed, his helm flopped sideways against the berth so he could look up with one pleasure-hazed optic and loopy grin, “is for you to finally frag me.”

“Oh?” Deadlock asked, snickering despite himself. “And what am I doing?”

“So far all you’ve done is stick your spike in me. Which, don’t get me wrong, that was great. But usually there’s, you know. More back and forth action. If you don’t mind my saying,  _Captain_.”

Deadlock laughed as he pressed deep into Hot Rod again and was rewarded with a low groan and fluttering calipers.

“Hhhh, yeah, like that. And you can’t tell me I don’t feel incredible,  _Captain_.”

“You just don’t make anything easy, do you?” Deadlock commented. Hot Rod’s laugh was broken only by another slow thrust.

“Nope,” Hot Rod said as he rolled his hips into the slow pace that Deadlock had set. For all his talk, the Bot was pliant under him, his frame showing no signs of protest against the hold Deadlock kept on his spoiler or the forced arch of his frame. His pretty blue optics flickered with each shift, charge already crackling anew between his plating.

But his grin was spark-stopping.

“But you like that, don’t you, Captain?”

Deadlock’s rhythm faltered, and the surprise must have shown because Hot Rod was laughing again. Snapping his hips to start fragging Hot Rod hard and deep broke it up with hiccupping gasps and moans, but every time he would start again, laughs louder than the last.

Hot Rod had seen straight through him and it made Deadlock’s spark burn not with embarrassment, but desperate possessiveness and, most shockingly, affection.

The pirate Captain simply could not remember the last time he had felt such a simple and genuine affection.

With a shudder and a tank-deep groan, Deadlock truly started to pound into Hot Rod, his spike throbbing in the perfect wet heat of Hot Rod’s valve and needing more of it. The Bot had finally stopped laughing in favor of an endless litany of gorgeous whimpering and gasping and “Captain, Captain, Captain–!”

Deadlock  _needed_ Hot Rod.

When overload hit, Deadlock bent his helm down to bite at the back of Hot Rod’s neck, sunk his fangs in, and growled as he released his transfluid with the overwhelming rush of euphoria. The sound of Hot Rod’s crying out as his valve spiraled down on his spike, seeming to milk it as the Bot trembled with his own climax that looped into itself, sending him over again and again, around and beneath Deadlock—

It was perfect.

Hot Rod was perfect.

* * *

::Captain?::

::What is it, Misfire?:: Deadlock asked across the commlink as he stepped out of his shower, grabbing a towel to wipe away the excess solution.

::That Autobot from last night is trying to contact ya. Big Blue’s looking for his cabin boy.::

Six hours, on the dot. Deadlock snorted as he moved to stand at the end of his berth.

Hot Rod was tangled up in at least three different blankets and clutched a couple pillows to his chest and face while still more were likely stuck under his recharging frame. There was only the quietest hum of his slumbering systems as he shifted and further buried his face into the luxuriously soft fabric.

Right where he belonged.

::Is there anyone left on shore?::

::Krok’s rounding up the last of ‘em.::

::Good. Tell him to hurry up because we’re shoving off immediately.::

The berth shifted when Deadlock sat on it just enough to cause Hot Rod to stir.

::They’ll be here in a couple minutes. What about the cabin boy though? Blue’s pretty persistent.::

::Ignore him.::

“Don’t wanna leave yet,” Hot Rod grumbled and Deadlock huffed with amusement as he brushed his knuckles along the Bot’s cheek. “The Captain is gonna be so pissed. I can already hear the lecturing from here”

::He’s  _really_ persistant.::

“Lucky for you that wasn’t my goal. I have some things to take care of, so don’t make a mess while I’m gone.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Be good, brat,” Deadlock insisted as he leaned down kiss Hot Rod’s helm. However, he quickly found servos grasping the back of his helm and Hot Rod’s lips against his own in a sloppy, sleepy kiss.

::C’mon, Captain! He seriously will not shut up. He keeps talking about  _policy_!::

Hot Rod pulled away with a lazy grin before rolling away from Deadlock to curl up in the bedding. “You’re just lucky that all I want to do is recharge.”

“Then recharge,” Deadlock said as he stood again, appreciating how perfect Hot Rod looked in his berth.

::Then tell him there’s no need to worry. I take good care of what’s mine.::


End file.
